Bring Me to Life: A Collection of Memoirs
by Weaving Radiance
Summary: "What kind of dream would he be having that would make him attempt to strangle me in his sleep? Was it truly that the terrible? Screw 'helping' him. Right now what I needed was answers." Full summary inside. "8th" year. HIATUS for the time being.
1. Prologue

Summary

The gang is back for seventh year and Hermione Granger notices the strange, lifeless behavior of a certain Slytherin. Now she's determined to figure out what's going on with him. Her "quest for knowledge" will take her farther than she ever expected.

**Now Presenting:  
BRING ME TO LIFE: A COLLECTION OF MEMOIRS  
****Featuring the Memoirs of: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, **and **Harry Potter. **

_**Prologue**_

The sunlight shines through the windows of the enormous library that you are reading in. You have a large tome in your lap. You find it quite interesting. It's about the Goblin Rebellions. Your parents are out of the house, shopping with Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry. It is summer vacation, and you are home from school.

An hour passes by, and you are still enraptured with your book. The sound of a clock chime awakens you from your trance. You look up from the book, and an idea slowly forms in your mind.

Your house is quite large. Larger than any of your friends' houses. And in the twelve years that you have lived there, you have yet to see the entirety of it. So you decide to go exploring. You guess that you got your adventurous side from your mother.

So you push your book on Goblin Rebellions back into its place on a shelf and stride out of the library. As you walk through the halls of your house you are in sheer amazement at the size of it. You inspect the portraits. Many of them you have never met. You barely stop and chat, though, instead settling for a polite "Good morning" and continue walking.

You approach a door. It is white, to match the walls. You have never been in this room before, so you open the door. It is considerably small, compared to all of the other rooms in the house. It looks sort of like an attic. There is dust on the floor and you make foot prints as you walk. You approach a chest, decorated with designs of silver and green dragons. There is a thin layer of dust on it. But then again, there is a think layer of dust on everything in the room.

You find that it is not locked, and you open the lid with ease. You hack as dust billows from inside.

There are school robes inside, grey jumpers, dress pants, slacks, pleated skirts, and even ties. Some are maroon and gold, while others are the same silver and green that the dragons are on the chest. You dig through these, and find two prefects badges, and then a head boy and girl badge. At the bottom of the chest, you find a leather-bound notebook, sort of like a diary. It is tied off with a piece of frayed string. Under the string is a folded-up note. You take the note and open it. You notice your mother's handwriting, and begin reading.

_It was never really supposed to happen. But it was such a good story, I decided to record all of it anyway. I asked my best friends to write the story from their point of view, and I have compiled them, along with my own diary entries from the time period. It was hard, but now I think I have finally gotten it all down. Reader, what you now hold in your hands is a story of angst, drama, danger, friendship, tragedy, and, most importantly, love. But now I am getting ahead of myself. I guess it all started with a scream. But that scream changed my life._

_

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_

The format of this story was inspired by the book _East _by Edith Pattou. It's going to be a bit different from my other two DHr fics. As you may know, I am also working on another one, but don't worry, I am going to finish that one. I've warned you in an A/N in some fic... I am going to be all over the place right now. This is the result of too many ideas at one time. ^_^ Hope you enjoy! ~Weaver


	2. Part One: The Flint

_**Part I: The Flint**_

"_Wake me up inside, Wake me up inside, call my name and save me from the dark. Bid my blood to run, before I come undone—save me from the nothing I've become" _~Evanescence, "Bring Me to Life"

_**Flint**_: _-noun _1. A hard stone, a form of silica resembling chalcedony but more opaque, less pure, and less lustrous. 2. A piece of this, esp. as used for striking fire.


	3. 1: Hermione Granger

_**Hermione Granger**_

**September the first, 1998**

I decided to start keeping a diary. It seemed sort of pointless at first, considering that all of the exciting parts of my life have already happened already (I hope). But I think I would like to look back at this diary in a couple of years to re-live my final year at Hogwarts.

We're going back! Can you believe it? This is going to be so exciting. And a bit depressing, I guess. So many people died… But I can't think about that now. Over the summer Harry, Ron, Ginny, and I went back to the school to help with the repairs. So did Luna, Neville, and Dean Thomas. It was terrible, the state that the school was in. But now it is almost back to normal. Some portraits we could not save, among other things. But now we're going back! Professor McGonagall had offered those who went to Hogwarts last year another year to continue their studies, considering that last year's staff was far less than adequate—and that is putting it lightly!

So now, here I am, trying to scribble a couple of words before I head off to the Prefect's compartment. I got my (last!) Hogwarts letter a couple of weeks ago and I am Head Girl now! I am so excited—ever since I first came to the school being Head Girl has been my highest school-related aspiration.

So this is where I say good bye—for now. I need to head over to the Prefect's compartment. I wonder who the head boy is.

* * *

First chapter is amazingly short, but they will get longer. There's not much to R&R right now, but I hope you do when there is! ~Weaver


	4. 2: Draco Malfoy

_**Draco Malfoy**_

I was a mess the day that I boarded the Hogwarts Express for the last time. I don't remember much of the summer—everything was a blur. I stopped eating for many days at a time, then started up again but stopped sleeping. On and off, on and off. I remember my father's trial, how he got sent to Azkaban for thirty years. By the time he gets out—If he gets out—he'll be an old man. I didn't really know what to think. This was the man that raised me to be what I am now. I like who I am. I am not some murderous Death Eater freak. And my father isn't either. He just made the wrong choices.

But even so, I can't count the times that he's set his wand on me for discipline. Not so much anymore, ironically; it was more when I was younger. He didn't _Crucio_ me or anything—he's not that barbaric—just the random _Impedimenta _or _Confringo_.

My mother was just as f'd up as me. We wouldn't talk to each other at meal time and she spent half the day crying in her bedroom. But what do you expect? We had picked a side, and lost.

When I boarded the Hogwarts Express, I must have looked terrible. Everyone was avoiding me, and no one met my eye.

_Just as well,_ I thought to myself angrily. _They wouldn't dare._

I was moody, depressed, angry, and a bit mental, you could say. I didn't like company, and I never talked to anyone. I had not even owled a person since June.

I was one of the only Slytherin 6th-years to go back. It was me, Pansy, Theodore Nott, Astoria Greengrass, Gregory Goyle and Blaise Zabini. I wouldn't know that until after I went to the Slytherin compartment.

My biggest surprise that year was the fact that I had been chosen as Head Boy. I don't know what was going through Professor McGonagall mind when she picked me—I had suspected she was under the influence—and I was a bit nervous. I mean, I was Draco Malfoy, Death Eater and Slytherin Prince extraordinaire. What would the other students think?

But I guess I never really cared what other people thought of me, beyond the usual "Draco Malfoy, aristocratic, pureblood, arrogant Slytherin".

I skipped my trip to the Slytherin compartment and headed directly to the Prefect one. The last thing I needed was more people staring at me and Pansy and Blaise trying to make conversation. And it would give me time to think.

I opened the door to the Prefect's compartment and sat down on one of the seats. I laid back against the headrest and closed my eyes. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

_Nightmares. Smoke. Fire. Hot. Unbearably hot. Sweat. Shouting. Pale. Running. Pounding. A scream. Glass shatters in the distance. More shouting. Tripping. Falling. Getting back up. Running through a door. Cool grass under my feet. More shouting. Another scream. Breathing heavy. Coughing. Hacking. Where's my wand? Wood under my fingers. Pointing._

"_Aguamenti! Aguamenti!" Then everything goes black. _

"Malfoy!"

I opened my eyes and wiped at a trickle of sweat going down my temple. There was some one looming over me. I saw a pretty face looking down at me. Her hair was curly, but not as curly as I remembered. Her freckles had disappeared. Her skin was smooth and tanned, and her chocolate-brown eyes had a look of concern written all over them. It took me a moment to realize that her hand was on my shoulder.

I instantly scooted away from her, towards the corner of the compartment, shouting "What the hell are you doing, Mudblood?"

Granger's gaze instantly turned from concern to fury. "Well excuse me for trying to help you! You were twitching like mad and then you started screaming a spell…" she trailed off in thought and looked at me curiously.

I brushed off my sleeve where she had touched me—and tried to forget how warm her hand was, even through my shirt. "Don't touch me," I growled.

She looked like she was about to retort, but I turned away from her and prepared myself to ignore whatever she was going to say next. To my utter surprise, she stayed quiet.

"So you're Head Boy?" she asked me after a minute.

I snorted. "No, I am just sitting her because I like the view."

"No need to be so snappy, Malfoy," she told me, looking a bit offended. _Good,_ I had thought.

"Just stay away from me this year," I growled at her.

"That's going to be sort of hard considering we have to share a dormitory," she retorted. I groaned inwardly. I had completely forgotten—Heads share a dorm!

"Try." I glared at her, then closed my eyes again. And for once, I didn't dream.


	5. 3: Ginny Weasley

_**Ginny Weasley**_

I, for one, cannot lie and say that I was dreading that final year at Hogwarts. In fact, I was elated. Because I was getting another shot. Another shot at grades, at friends, and at Harry.

Over the summer Harry and I were good friends, though it was always awkward. Then, the two weeks before we started term, he kissed me again. We had been going out ever since. Ron, I think, was a bit uncomfortable with it, but supportive. Hermione was the one yelling at Harry to start it up again. I laughed every time I thought about it.

Hermione came back from the Prefect compartment the first day looking seriously peeved. I could only guess that the Head Boy wasn't someone she was going to get along with.

"It's Draco Malfoy!" she had yelled at me when she came in. Ron and Harry both looked up at her with confused faces. But I got it. He was Head Boy.

"What?" I asked, incredulous. What could've been going on in McGonagall's head when she picked _him_? He was a bloody _Death Eater!_ "That's impossible."

"Well it is possible, because I just had to spend the last half-an-hour with the creep. He still has the _nerve_ to call me a Mudblood, even when I was trying to help him."

Harry spluttered in his pumpkin juice. "You tried to _help _him? With what?" he asked.

"Well... it looked like he was having a nightmare, and a bloody awful one at that, so I tried waking him up. When I did he yelled at me and called me Mudblood! But Harry, it was terrifying. You should've seen his face! And he kept yelling _Aguamenti, Aguamenti…_" She trailed off and all of us were quiet. We were all thinking about the same thing.

It was the middle of summer, in the second week of July, when the Daily Prophet arrived at the kitchen table in the Burrow with the headline _**Vandals Set Fire to Malfoy Manor! Culprits Yet to be Identified**_. The article went on about how they suspected some rebels cast a Fiend Fyre hex on the place. A scorch mark on the side of the white mansion said some pretty nasty things about the Malfoys and their association with Lord Voldemort. Narcissa Malfoy and Draco had made it out alive, but just barely.

"Was it wrong to try and help?" Hermione whispered.

Harry looked at her sympathetically. "I don't think so, Hermione. It's not your fault that he's an ungrateful git."

She nodded. "Thanks," she said, and sat down beside me.

"Ginny, how am I supposed to get through this year if I'm going to live with him?" she asked me. "You'd think that he'd change with the war—almost all of us have. But it doesn't seem like he did. Well, not so much physically."

"What do you mean?" I asked her.

"Well, for one, he looked ill. He was paler than usual—if that's possible. And he had purple circles under his eyes, like he hadn't been sleeping. And he was a stick! I mean, he was skinny before, but that was just crazy! He wasn't wearing his hair the way he usually does—all slicked back with that disgusting gel. It was just hanging limp off his head and over his eyes. Is it wrong to be concerned?" Hermione asked me worriedly.

I thought for a second. "Malfoy sounds like he's suffering from depression," I said quietly. "Or something. I don't think it's wrong to be concerned. But I do think that Malfoy deserves everything that he gets." That sounded really harsh and bitter right there, but it was the truth to me.

Hermione nodded. "I see."

But I could tell that she was going to try to help him anyway. I just didn't know what would come of it.


	6. 4: Ron Weasley

_**Ron Weasley**_

You might have known this already, but I do not like writing. I don't like much work, period. But this is for Hermione. It's going to be hard for me, re-living everything again. But I'm going to do it anyway. And I can't ignore the fact that whatever I felt, Malfoy and Hermione could have felt twice as much. Do you think I'm giving too much away? Sucks for you.

Ha, listen to me. I'm twenty three years old and I sound like a bitter old man.

I guess I could start at the beginning. When Hermione came storming in our compartment because of Draco Malfoy. Ginny placated her and Harry made her feel better. I was silent. I wonder now, if I had spoken up, said what was really on my mind, things might have turned out differently. But I was silent.

I could tell when we boarded the carriages to the school that she was still thinking about him. I could tell by her eyes.

It was strange to see the threstrals that year. It seemed like all of the students could, except for the first and second years. When we sat down, Harry and Ginny sat across from me and Hermione. I put a—hopefully—comforting arm around her. She didn't look me in the eye; she was staring off into the distance.

She was deep in thought. That much was obvious. And I was pretty sure that she was in deep in thought about Malfoy. None of really spoke. Once or twice Harry tried to make conversation, but he quickly stopped trying.

It would be easier for you to grasp my part of the story if I told you want happened over the summer. With Hermione and me, I mean. We kissed in the middle of the final battle, and we started dating during the summer. I was just glad that I didn't have to do much to get things started. It was actually more Hermione's doing, than anything. But that was what I was like back then. Brave when it came to Death eaters and fighting, but girls were foreign territory. I think I was lucky with my two girls then. Lavender. Then Hermione. I didn't have to do much. Sure Lavender was mental, but she was stronger with relationships than I ever was. I think that Hermione was just stronger than me in general.

It's hard to explain how I felt about Hermione. It's hard to explain much anymore. I think that I loved her. No, I know that I loved her. And maybe I still do. I remember back at Malfoy Manor, when she was getting _Cruicio_'d while I was trapped in a bloody basement… I got this course of adrenaline, and it made me want to rip down the door and run back up to that parlor. But I couldn't.

It was sort of like a burn, you could say. No that was wrong, it was more like a fire. A blaze. It consumed me, warmed me, and filled me with passion. That sounds terrible. See? I told you I couldn't explain it.

But at that moment, when I realized that she was thinking about Malfoy, I knew that I couldn't do anything. I realized with a jolt that I had lost her. To Malfoy, no less. Even if we had ended up married with kids, she would always think of him. I think she and him subconsciously fell in love that day. Or maybe it was just her, and Malfoy came later. It felt like someone did an _Aguamenti_ to my heart. Put out the fire, then drowned it and suffocated it. Now that I think about it, maybe it was better that it happened then than later.

But I kept those thoughts to myself. Actually, this is the first time I have ever told anyone this. I wanted to make my time with Hermione last.

The carriages pulled up to the entrance of Hogwarts, and Ginny let out a breath of amazement. It was incredible what a handful (okay, more like fifty) of students and a dozen adults could do. It looked more spectacular than before, but still had the same Hogwarts charm to it.

Hermione sighed. I looked at her.

"This is our last year," she explained. "This is the last time we're ever going to be on these carriages, the last time we will walk through these halls as students, the last time we will be in one of these classrooms..."

"Unless we get a job here," Harry piped up. He had told us all over the summer that he was trying to decide between going into auror training or teaching DADA here at Hogwarts.

She nodded and smiled dreamily. "That would be nice."

"Does anyone know if Neville or Luna decided to come back?" Ginny asked.

Hermione jumped, as if startled. Then she replied with "Luna was definitely coming back and Neville said that he was deciding with his Gran."

Ginny nodded. "I guess we'll find out when we get into the castle," she said. We were silent for the rest of the carriage ride.

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This, I think, has been my favorite chapter to write so far, just because I got to write Ron's emotions. You can decide whether or not to feel sorry for him. ^_^ Hope you are enjoying! The next chapters won't come as quickly as these last four. I had already written them, I just hadn't posted them. Thanks if you reviewed, and please do if you haven't! ~Weaver


	7. 5: Harry Potter

_**Harry Potter**_

You may not know this, but I _hate_ uncomfortable silences. They are one of my worst pet-peeves. So you can imagine how I felt when none of us spoke all the way up to the castle. That's not just a quick little ride. It's fifteen minutes long, minimum. And everyone just ignored my attempts at conversation. I wanted to rip my hair out by the time we approached the entrance.

The carriage pulled through the gate and we jumped off. Hermione stroked one threstral as thanks and we followed her through the entrance.

As we walked into the Great Hall I couldn't help but marvel at the room. It took many weeks, but we had finally repaired it. The ceiling was back to its ever-changing splendor, and the tables were restored to their places along the hall. Professor McGonagall sat at the Headmaster's—well, I guess it's Headmistress' now—chair, looking quite satisfied.

"Welcome back, students," she announced, giving us a friendly smile. "Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts. We are excited to have you back. I'd like to offer a round of applause to all of the students who had helped to restore the school." She gestured for us to stand up, and a scattering of students stood, including Hermione, Ron, Ginny and I. Most of us who helped with the repairs didn't come back for the school year. The Hall erupted in cheers and applause, and Professor McGonagall gestured for us to sit back down.

"I welcome Miss Victoria Dupree, who will be taking my place as Transfiguration professor and Mr. Gabriel Rothers who will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The new Deputy Headmaster will be Professor Slughorn and the new Head of Slytherin. Professor Dupree will take my place as Head of Gryffindor house. Please give all of the new professors, as well as professor Slughorn another round of applause." We started clapping.

"They look really young," Hermione commented. I looked up at the two professors. Dupree couldn't have been much older than Tonks had been, and her hair was dark and on the curly side. She had deep blue-violet eyes and a slim figure. When she stood up I could see that she was wearing a purple belt over her robes. She was pretty and petite, and she had a nice smile.

Rothers was in between Bill and Lupin age wise—twenty nine would've been my guess. He had yellow hair and brown eyes, and a bit of stubble on his chin. He was tall and looked pretty serious, though he had this familiar gleam in his eye. Before I could place it Ron nudged me and said "He sort of reminds me of Fred and George." Yep, that was it. It was a _mischievous_ gleam. _We're going to have some fun this year,_ I thought to myself.

"Before we go on with the Sorting, I think a moment of silence is needed, to honor those who fell in the Battle of Hogwarts. They were brave, and it was not their time to die."

The hall was eerily silent for a few moments as everyone remembered the people that they had lost. Ron was shoving his food around his plate looking angry and like he was trying not to cry. The pang in my heart was back—these people had died for me.

"On a lighter note," Professor—well, I guess she was Headmistress now—McGonagall said, "I believe we have some sorting to do."

Professor Slughorn came into the room trailed by a line of little first years. The line was smaller than I had remembered, but that was to be expected. Some of the parents didn't want their children going to Hogwarts just yet, and some just couldn't afford to let their children out of the house. Hogwarts was not the only building in Britain that had suffered damage.

The stool and the Sorting Hat were placed in front of Professor McGonagall's podium and Professor Slughorn took his place beside it, holding the list with all the names on it. The Sorting Hat began it's song, but I wasn't really paying attention. It was something about coming through tough times and staying together. And then it went on about Inter-house Unity, something that it had never done before, and my head snapped up. _Inter-house Unity?_ I wondered. _Since when did the Hat care about Inter-house Unity? _

"Adner, Andrew," was called and was quickly sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Let's count the ickle firsties, shall we?" Ron muttered under his breath. I let out a short laugh.

"One…"

"Slytherin!"

"Two…"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Three…"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Four…"

"Gryffindor!"

"Five…"

By the time everyone had been sorted we had counted only twenty three first years, and six of them had been Gryffindor—two of them boys, and four of them girls.

"Huh, the Slytherins only got three!" Ron whispered. "That's sort of scary. I mean, how many first years did we have with us when we first came to Hogwarts?"

"I dunno… forty? Maybe the population's going down," I joked, but then I realized what I said and was silent.

"Don't worry about it, mate," Ron said to me slowly. "I know you didn't mean it like that."

I nodded. "But no matter what I meant, it's still true," I muttered darkly.


	8. 6: Draco Malfoy

_**Draco Malfoy**_

I don't know what I was expecting for the Head Dorms, but it definitely wasn't what I got. I mean, that place was _huge!_ And this is _me _talking, resident of Malfoy Manor. When I walked into the room I instantly thought of Nott, Blaise, and Goyle all sleeping in one little room with twin beds. I let out a hoarse chuckle. I hadn't done that in ages.

Granger was still at the feast with Potter and Weasley and my guess was that they were annoying the crap out of her. I snorted. Why the hell did she hang out with those idiots?

The Head Dorms, as I said before, were absolutely gargantuan. The ceiling was of the cathedral variety, and there was a kitchenette, a living room and a study. I marveled at the bathroom. The floors were marble and so was the tub. The faucets and fixtures were gold and the counter was granite. On each side of the bathroom door there was another door, one dark red and the other dark green. I guessed that mine was the green one—I guessed right. The inside was a blur of silver, green, grey and black. The bed was easily king-sized, and there was a small writing desk in the corner, a green chaise lounge and a black armchair, for visitors, I guessed. Ha, yeah right. The room was clean-cut and masculine—very elegant. Just my style.

Then I got this overwhelming urge to check out Granger's dorm. Ah, Granger. Idiotic, easy-to-read, _compassionate_ Granger. I wondered what was going on in her pretty little head when she tried to wake me up from my nightmare. Probably trying to help the poor little Slytherin. I snorted for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. Gryffindors were so damn _easy_.

I decided that snooping around her room would probably do more good _after_ she unpacked. Then I went down to check out the kitchenette. There was a gas stove, a sink, multiple cabinets filled with both food and kitchen utensils. Pots, pans, cutlery, plates… the works. I found a particularly large cutting knife and resolved to placing it on the top of a cabinet where she couldn't reach, knowing that if I pissed her off well enough she'd most likely go for something sharp, not her wand. "Barbaric," I sneered to myself.

Then I walked back to my room and settled down on the chaise lounge with a book. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep.

* * *

Short-ay! Wait, it's not short, it's fun-sized! Haha, I've alway's loved that quote. Okay, right now, my brain is working into overdrive. I have all of these Dramione ideas buzzing through my head, and I _really_ want to finish my other in-progress DHr, so you may not hear from this one for a bit. Hope you guys like it so far-please Review! Thanks, ~Weaver


	9. 7: Hermione Granger

_**Hermione Granger**_

**September the first, 1998 (cont)**

I just came back from the feast. My last Hogwarts feast! They have the best food. Now all I have to do is work at getting the house elves paid for it… I think that Harry and Ron and Ginny are really going to miss me at Gryffindor tower this year, because I'm going to be living with—blech—Malfoy for the whole year. What idiot puts a Slytherin and a Gryffindor in the same dorm for an entire year? Not to mention that said Slytherin is a past Death Eater. Whatever. I'm sure Professor McGonagall had her reasons.

The Head Dorms are truly spectacular in every way. I've just finished unpacking, and my room looks pretty nice. I've put all of my pictures up with a Sticking Charm and the closet in my room is huge! I've put all of my clothes and uniforms in there. Right now my desk is really neat, with my extra parchment stacked in a corner and spare inkwells lined up on the hutch. I highly doubt that it's going to stay like that—I am a very disorganized studier.

Now onto a new subject. Draco Malfoy, also known as Ferret Boy, Slytherin Prince, Junior Deatheater, and current Head Boy, as previously stated. I am still shocked that McGonagall picked him.

But it seems like he's just a shell of what he used to be. He looks sleep-deprived and half-starved, and he doesn't have the same Malfoy elegance. I mean, it's still there, but more toned-down and weary. I walked into the Prefect Compartment that today to find him screaming _Aguamenti!_ Over and over again in his sleep. It had something to do with the burning at Malfoy Manor, I know it. But the whole thing was so terrifying… and you should've seen him at the Prefect Meeting. He didn't say a word, just glared at the wall across from him. Nearly made a fifth year Hufflepuff wet his pants. Clearly, something is wrong, and I am determined to find out. And then, if I can, I'll help him.

There was no sign of Malfoy when I walked in the common room, so I suspect that he's in his room. It doesn't sound like he's doing anything, so my gue

If this comes out illegible it isn't my fault. It's all Malfoy's. Draco bloody Malfoy. God, forgive me for asking you this, but send him to hell for me, please.

I broke off two paragraphs up because of a scream. Malfoy's scream. It was like a banshee scream, and it nearly scared me to death. So naturally, I jumped out of my chair and ran towards his room. I whipped open the door to see him literally _writhing _on the little chaise lounge in the corner of his room, back arched and face screwed up in agony… Not something I want to relive.

His expression killed me. It felt like something died inside of me. I don't know why Malfoy, of all people, had this affect on me. But I wanted it to stop. The nightmare, the screaming, the writhing… I couldn't stand to see that much pain. Even if it was at _his_ expense.

So I ran over to him and shook his shoulders, trying to wake him up for the second time today, and I think—no, I hope—that he was still asleep because he round his hand around my neck and squeezed with all his might. He was strangling me in his sleep!

I think I had screamed sometime, and then I pounded at his chest with the bottom of my fists. I could feel myself turning blue, and I gasped for breath but none came… And then his eyes flew open and he sprung away from me, breathing hard. "_What the hell are you doing, you filthy Mudblood!_" he had roared at me, and I backed up against the door.

"You were screaming you're bloody head off in here, Malfoy, and I thought I might come in and wake you up. But then you went and nearly killed me…" I retorted.

"I did not!" He argued.

"Oh yeah?" I said, and I pointed to the marks that I knew were some where on my neck. "What are these then? Disfigured hickeys? Bloody well likely."

"Merlin, Granger…" he had murmured, and for a moment I thought he was going to apologize. But then he looked up at me and his eyes were cold and hard, but vacant. "That's your own fault, you filthy sneak."

I was speechless. I don't know what happened then—I just blew my top. I started screaming things at him, things that I can't quite remember now. A few things about his dad in Azkaban, maybe on or two about his mum, and quite a lot about him being a slimy coward and cruel, heartless bastard, I think. But whatever it was it must've really upset him because he pushed me out of the way, slammed the door open, and shoved me out before I could shriek anything else.

So here I am now, writing this all down. Do you think I should report this to Professor McGonagall? That would surely get his Head Boy position stripped. But is that what I want? I mean, sure, he'd be out of my hair, but then I would have less chance at finding out what's up with him. What kind of dream would he be having that would make him attempt to strangle me in his sleep? Was it truly that the terrible?

Screw "helping" him. Right now what I needed was answers.


	10. 8: Ron Weasley

_**Ron Weasley**_

The next morning I woke up with a yawn and a stretch. The first day back. The last first day back. Did that make sense? I suppose it does.

Harry was still asleep. I looked at the little analog that sat on my nightstand. "Shit, we're going to be late," I muttered. I looked around the dormitory. Neville had come back for seventh year, and so did Dean and Seamus. The gang was back. And currently the gang was pulling on their uniforms while Harry and I were still in bed.

"Oi, Harry!" I barked, hurling my pillow at him.

Harry woke with a start. "What? What?" he said, sitting up abruptly and whipping his head to the left and then right. He threw his glasses on as Seamus, Dean, and Neville chuckled into their sleeves.

He frowned. "Really, Ron?" he complained.

"Come one, mate," I said, throwing him a grin. "How else was I supposed to do it?" I walked over to my trunk and got out my uniform.

"You could _tell_ me," Harry said grumpily, rubbing his eyes under his glasses and pulling down the quilt. "Instead of bombarding me with pillows like a loony."

"That was only one pillow," I corrected him. "Now come on, we're going to be late."

That was all Harry needed to start getting up. He threw on his uniform before any of us—who had all started dressing before him—could finish and ran out the door towards the bathroom.

"Are you trying to pull a Hermione, Harry?" Seamus called after him.

"Maybe," Harry yelled back with a laugh.

I met up with Harry in the common room, still yawning and stretching with my messenger bag flung over my shoulder.

"Merlin, Harry, only Malfoy is ever the bathroom for that long," I told him as we headed out.

He chuckled. "Doesn't seem like it anymore. Did you see him at the welcome feast? Downright frightening, that was."

"Why were you looking at Malfoy?" I teased him.

"Shut up," Harry said, punching me lightly in the shoulder. "You know why. Ginny said that Hermione's really worried about him."

I froze. What else had Hermione said to Ginny about Malfoy? "Why should she? Watch it," I warned him as he made to step off a staircase when it was still moving.

"Thanks, Ron. And you know Hermione. She tried and is probably still trying to liberate bloody house elves. I think Malfoy's just going to be her next project. It's just how she is."

"I don't like it," I said truthfully. "I don't think Malfoy should be trusted. He looks dangerous now—even worse than what he was before the war."

"I highly doubt that," Harry said as we reached the ground floor. "He looks beaten; defenseless. I don't see any problem with Hermione trying to interact with Malfoy, except that the git doesn't deserve it."

"Exactly, Harry. Hermione's not thinking straight if she wants to help _Malfoy_, of all people."

"Just let her go. Who knows? Maybe she'll actually succeed and he won't be the cruel, evil, conniving little git that he was. Hermione's got charisma, and she knows how to use it. He'll be putty in her capable hands, and the world will be better off for it."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I muttered. "'Cause after 'putty in her hands', comes 'falling for her hard'. I say this from experience."

Harry looked at me thoughtfully as we entered the Great Hall. "We'll deal with that if and when it happens. Besides, we know Hermione's head-over-heels in love with you, so there's no danger on her part."

_You weren't watching her on the carriage,_ I thought. _You didn't see her expression when she was thinking about him_. But I didn't voice this opinion. Let Harry think that he's right. At least I'll have something I can be smug about when Hermione breaks up with me or something.

To my utter surprise, Ginny but not Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table at breakfast.

"Hey, guys," she said, looking up from her book at she stabbed a piece of egg with her fork. Harry swooped down to give her a peck on the lips while I reflexively looked away.

"Hermione's not here yet?" Harry said as we took the seats across from Ginny.

She nodded. "Yeah, I thought that was strange, too. I thought that she would be the first one to breakfast."

"Is it me or does Malfoy look worse than he did yesterday?" She asked as she pointed behind us with her fork.

I found the familiar blur of pale hair and squinted. Yes, he did look worse. Gaunter, if that was possible, and the bags under his eyes were more prominent.

"Hermione has a lot of work to do," Harry muttered, "If she wants to bring _that_ thing back to life."

I nodded.

"Oh, look, there's Hermione!" Ginny said, waving to what I assumed was Hermione.

She walked towards us and put on a grin, but it didn't reach her eyes. Strange—Hermione always grins with her eyes as well as her mouth. My eyes narrowed with suspicion. So did Ginny's.

"Are you wearing concealer? On your bloody _neck_?" she asked as Hermione sat down next to her.

"Concealer?" Harry said. "Isn't that what muggle girls put on their faces to make pimple go away?"

"It doesn't make them go away, it hides them, and it can hide a lot of other things too," Ginny looked at Hermione, and then me pointedly. _What?_ I mouthed, and she smirks in response.

Hermione's gaze flitted to me, too, and then her eyes brightened with realization and she shouted "God no!"

"What? What?" Harry and I demanded. Hermione ignored us.

"No, it's not for anything like that," she said quietly, her face a red that could give dad a run for his money.

"What?" Harry repeated.

"Er… Ginny thinks... the _conceal_er... me and Ron..."

"Got it, got it!" Harry shouted, putting his hands up in a "stop" motion. I could feel my face start to heat up and I glared at Ginny.

"So what _is_ it for?" she asked, propping her elbows up on the table and looking at Hermione intently.

Her eyes widened. "It's nothing," she said, looking away.

"M hm," Ginny said, obviously unconvinced.

Before Hermione could protest, she took out her wand and pointed it at Hermione's neck. "_Revelio,_" she said, and the concealer disappeared.

* * *

Sorry for the cliff-hanger. I couldn't help myself. Please review!


	11. 9: Ginny Weasley

_**Ginny Weasley**_

I don't know what I was expecting when the large amount of concealer that Hermione had put on suddenly disappeared, but it certainly wasn't what I found.

There were two large bruises on the side of her neck, at least ten centimeters each and repulsively colored—some where in between purple and green. I could faintly make out gaps in the bruises, where her pale skin peeked through, so it looked like eight little bruises instead of two big ones; so it looked like… like someone had tried to strangle her.

Hermione's hands flew to her neck.

"Bloody hell!" Ron and I yelled as Harry shouted "Hermione!"

"Shut up, guys, it's not a big deal!" she said, tugging on her collar to try and hide the bruises. I snorted through my shock.

"Not a big deal?" Ron repeated explosively. "It looks like someone tried to bloody _murder_ you!" He blanched. "It was Malfoy, wasn't it?" But he wasn't looking at Hermione anymore. He was looking at Harry. I was confused now. Why was he looking at Harry?

Hermione herself did not answer, and instead looked to her right.

My thoughts raced. He'd tried to _kill_ her? "You have to report this to McGonagall," I hissed. "I don't know what you were trying to do with Malfoy, but it's got to end now."

"No," she said defiantly. "He was asleep when he did it—he only realized when he was doing when he woke up…"

"You're trying to defend him?" Ron roared, pushing back on the table and standing up.

People were sending suspicious glances our way. "Ron, get down," Harry whispered, pulling him by his uniform. "People are starting to look at you funny."

"Let them look," Ron said, ripping his uniform from Harry's grasp, but he sat down anyway.

"I'm not going to watch you let yourself get hurt for Malfoy's sake, no matter if it was an accident," he breathed venomously to Hermione.

"Right now I don't really have the urge to help him very much anymore, but that has nothing to do with the fact that I need _answers_," Hermione replied. "Do you think that if Malfoy gets sent home, we'll ever figure out the _why_ of the situation?"

"I don't give a damn about _why_," Ron spat. "But what I do give a damn about is _you_."

"I am fully capable of taking care of myself, Ronald," she said coldly.

"Those bruises say otherwise," I added. "Admit, Hermione, he would've killed you if he hadn't woken up."

"It's not his fault!" she said indignantly. "He was _asleep_." She was so stuck on that fact.

"Did he have the decency to at least _apologize_?" Harry demanded. I was wondering the same thing. Hermione was silent again.

"Of all the damn bastards of the world!" Ron fumed, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'll kill him," he seethed. "I'll kill him just like he tried to kill you…"

"It wasn't his fault!" Hermione cried. "Look, Ron, I want to get him back as much as you do. I am _loathing_ him right now. But you have to realize that something is psychologically wrong with him, and I want to—no, I _need_ to figure it out. Every one deserves a second chance," she said softly.

"Malfoy's had his second chances, Hermione," Harry said. "He's had too many of them. And you're not going to be the one to give the next one to him, or the next one."

"You've had your fair amount of second chances, Harry," Hermione said. "Maybe in a different sense of things, but you've had them, nonetheless. You're second chances at surviving. When your parents died, your mother sacrificed herself so you got that second chance at life. You got a second chance using the time turner, to save Sirius. When you 'came back from the dead' after Voldemort tried to murder you last year, you got another one. And now you're going to deprive Malfoy of his fair share of second chances?"

"You miss the key word in that, Hermione," I told her. "Fair share. He's already had his fair share. And I'm with Harry. You're not the one who's going to give him his next one."

"I'm not going to report him, guys. I want to figure out this mystery, even if you three don't."

"I see," Ron said, folding his arms over his chest. "You're choosing him over us. Over me."

"If that means choosing what's right and what is easy, then yes, I am."

"I'm can't believe this." He swore under his breath.

"If you don't report him, then one of us will," I warned her.

"Don't," she said—no, pleaded. "Please, don't."

"He's earned _none _of what you are trying to give him, Hermione," Harry told her solemnly.

"I know. But please. Don't report him. For me."

There was silence for a minute. "I'm giving you a month," he said.

"What?" Ron exclaimed, shooting daggers at Harry.

"If by a month Malfoy's not radically changed—for the better—we're reporting him and everything else he ever did during that time period. And we'll all see to it that he gets thrown out of Hogwarts."

Hermione exhaled.

"Harry," I said. "You can't be serious!"

"I am. And you guys have to promise not to rat him out until the month is over. Come on, Ron," he said, nudging my brother.

"I'll kill him. I swear, Hermione, I'll kill him if he ever does anything like that again. And I won't hold back this time, even if it does get me thrown out of Hogwarts and into Azkaban."

"A month," Hermione repeated. "Then you can do whatever you want to him."

* * *

I started writing this thing ten minutes after I finished the last chapter, so that's my explanation for it being done so fast. School is starting this Monday for me! Woot! But that also means that updates will be slower. Part one is about half-way over. Probably a bit more. Just so you know, there will be five parts. Please leave a review! Thanks, ~Weaver


	12. 10: Draco Malfoy

_**Draco Malfoy**_

"Hey Draco," Blaise said as he nudged me. "Looks like the Golden Trio and the Weaselette are having a row. Maybe the Weasel cheated on the Mudblood with that slut Brown and they all got involved," he snickered.

I looked up from my nearly full plate of breakfast slowly. Weasley was looking particularly angry, his face almost as red as his abominable hair, his mouth set in a fierce snarl, his eyes trained on Granger.

"…defend him?" I could hear him say. Potter tugged on his robes, and I assumed that he was telling the oaf to sit down.

"What do you think?" Blaise asked me, and by his tone I could tell that this was not the first time he was asking me.

I, of course, could tell what they were arguing about. The keyword _him_ and the fact that Granger's collar was pulled up to her chin made it easy. I felt a ripple of unease roll down my spine, but I ignored it.

"I don't know," I snapped, and returned my gaze to my plate. I couldn't bring myself to lift a forkful in my mouth, though, even if my stomach was whining with hunger.

"The Gyrffindors are getting their claws out," Blaise commented. He didn't say anything else, though, but continued to watch the spectacle as it unfurled before us.

I didn't give a damn about what Granger or her pets thought about me. They could kick me out of the school for all I cared. They could send me to hell to rot for all I cared. But for some reason the image of Granger leaning over me, letting out strangled screams with tears running down her face was engraved onto the side of my brain. Why was it so bright in my mind? Why couldn't I just forget about it?

I didn't blame myself for the incident. She had walked in on my one moment of weakness, and Malfoys before my time had killed because of that. She was lucky to have woken me up.

Breakfast finished and I stood up slowly, slinging my bag over my shoulder. I was vaguely aware of Blaise following me, but I easily ignored all the times that he tried to talk to me. I think, once or twice, he steered me away from walls that threatened to knock me over.

We had Transfiguration with the Gryffindors first period. I should've known that Weasley had something in store for me.

"_You bloody bastard!_" he bellowed as he came running down the hall two minutes before bell.

"Ronald!" Granger cried out, running after him looking shocked. Potter and the Weasley girl were close behind, the Boy Who Lived trying to catch up with the other two and his girlfriend looking like she was just trying to keep up.

He whipped out his wand.

"Ron, for Merlin's sake…"

"I promised I wouldn't rat him out, Hermione. I didn't promise anything about this."

"What are you going to do to me, Weasel," I said. "Send daisies at my head?" I hated myself for sounding so feeble then.

"Just don't touch her," he said, glaring at me. "Don't lay a finger on her, or else."

"She came to me," I replied, quite aware of how it would sound to the other students. "It's not my fault. She should have known what she was getting herself into."

"Ron, just put your damn wand down," Granger said, trying to drag his wand arm back to his side.

"Not until he apologizes for what he did to you!"

"I'm not going to apologize for anything, Weasel," I sneered.

"What is going on here?"

Weasley's eyes widened and I whipped around to face the new Transfiguration teacher, Rothers.

"Nothing," he said, slowly lowering his wand.

"It looks like you were just going to aim a curse at Mr.…"

"Malfoy," I said. The old Draco would've threw a smirk at Weasley, but instead I stared up at Rothers with what I hoped was a calm, even stare.

He nodded, then turned to the crowd of students that had gathered outside of his class. "Any student caught attempting or actually cursing another student by me will receive immediate detention. Mr Weasley, I presume?" Rothers said, turning to the Weasel.

"Yes sir," he muttered.

"I expect something better from you, of all people, Mr. Weasley. Detention in my office, this Wednesday and Thursday."

The red-headed imbecile nodded solemnly, and took a step back.

Later that day Blaise came up to me red in the face and out of breath, as if he had been running to catch up with me.

"Do you know what they're saying about you and Granger and Weasley?" he asked me.

"Do you think I really care?" I drawled.

Blaise told me anyway. "They're saying that you raped her and Weasley's plotting your downfall. Is it true?"

"Weasley's been plotting my downfall ever since I met him," I told him, even though I knew exactly what he was asking about.

"Nah, really?" Blaise said sardonically. "I mean about you raping the Mudblood."

"Do you really think I'd do that?" I replied.

He was silent. He didn't know what to think, I could tell. He opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off. "Whatever you think is true is true," I said.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" Blaise said indignantly.

"Exactly," I replied vaguely, and sped ahead towards my next class.

* * *

I left you guys off for so long and I am SO sorry! This chapter is short and boring, but I needed something to stick in there. Thanks to all of you who reviewed! I will try to update sooner next time. ~Weaver


	13. 11: Harry Potter

_**Harry Potter**_

"Oh, come on Harry," Ron said as we headed back from Transfiguaration. "You can't seriously think Malfoy's 'right' right now."

"I never said that," I replied impatiently. "I just think it was… impulsive to just have a go at him like that. I mean, really Ron? Now you've just bought yourself detention for two days."

"I couldn't help it!" Ron said. "That… _jerk_ had the _nerve_—"

"You think _I'm_ happy with how he treated Hermione? But I made a deal with her, so I plan to stick with it. No one lays a hand on Malfoy until the month's over."

"I don't remember 'laying a hand' on him anywhere in that little conversation we had at breakfast."

I made an annoyed sound. "You know it was an unspoken agreement. You could tell with Hermione."

Ron grunted in that mature, manly way of his.

"It's just a month, Ron, and if Malfoy isn't completely changed by then, they you can go in for the kill or what ever you want to call it," I reminded him.

"You're starting to sound like Ginny," Ron muttered.

I had to crack a grin. That didn't sound too bad to me.

* * *

"Harry! Harry!"

I looked up to see Ginny racing towards me at dinner, and cracked a grin. Then I noticed her face and frowned. Why was she making that face?

She plopped down in the space next to me. "Harry…" she breathed, "Have… have you _huff _heard w-what _huff _people are s-saying?"

"About what?" I asked.

"Hermione and Malfoy!"

"Er… no. What?"

"Half say Malfoy raped her, the other half said that he seduced her and they slept together, and all of them say Ron was trying to get him back for it!"

Ron choked on his food and Hermione lost her grip on her fork. I almost dipped my pumpkin juice down my front. Good old Ginny. Never bounces around words and just says what she means.

"W-what?" Hermione said.

"That's what they're saying! But neither of them are true, are they, 'Mione?" Ginny asked, now looking very concerned.

"Merlin, no!" she replied in a sort of shout. "I would have had him packing long before if he did… _that_."

Ginny looked at Ron. "You shouldn't have done anything to Malfoy today, you know. Now that I look back on it, it really did sound like that's what happened."

"Why is everyone still telling me that? Yeah, it was stupid, but I couldn't really help it, could I? And it's not my fault that the population of Hogwarts is trying to bend everyone's words for the sake of gossip."

"But you've made this big mess of things."

"I don't see how Malfoy… erm… doing that to Hermione makes anything different for us. I mean, it's Malfoy—who cares what anyone thinks about him?" I said.

"But they saw that Hermione didn't _do_ anything about it, like _go to McGonagall,_" Ginny said pointedly, then continued, "so maybe they'll think… well, maybe they think that she enjoyed it or something, either way. Which is obviously not true," Ginny added when Hermione's face turned bright red.

"That's just a load of rubbish," she said immediately. "I don't particularly mind what anyone thinks about that, because the my real friends will know that I wouldn't do such a thing or let anyone do that to me, right?"

"Right."

Before we could even start eating again Neville came bounding up to us. "Hermione... I say this because I'm your friend. Just say no."

We all groaned.

"Have a seat, Neville."

* * *

AAAHH! I haven't posted for over a month! I my gosh, I am so sorry! I was working a few other projects and I got dumped with schoolwork (tonight is my first night with no school work since the second day, not counting studying!) But here it is! Yes, it's terribly short, but if it's any comfort I'm about 4/5 finished with the next chapter, I think. Unless I decide to add more or work over it or something... but I PROMISE, It'll be up in less than a week.

For those of you who have read my recently finished "Can I Have This Dance" fic, I probably won't start writing the sequel for a while. Not like, a month while, but a _while_ while, at least until I can get my thoughts and ideas straight.

My one problem with this fic: I've got all the major scenes packed into my head. It's putting them together with subplots and side scenes that I can't get together. I'd skip them, but then the story would seem all choppy and stuff... so the result is a bit of a wait between chapters. I've been thinking of some one-shot ideas, so be sure to watch out for them... yup, that seems like all the stuff I have to say for today. Thanks for reading, please drop a review, and peace out! ~Weaver


	14. 12: Hermione Granger

**Hermione Granger**

**September the third, 1998**

I think I've changed my mind. I will help Malfoy, not just get the answers I want. Why? I will answer honestly and say I have no earthly idea. Hm... I guess it's when I look at him I just feel like I'm back in the war—like it never ended. Like it's still going on around me, around Malfoy. Pathetic of me, right? But it's something that keeps bothering me, like a particularly hard-to-reach itch.

So there is my proclamation for the day.

Ron's still in detention, the idiot. There's one thing about Ronald Weasley that I would've changed. His anger management issues. Well, they're not really anger management… who am I kidding, of course they are. His temper is so short! I can't believe he just walked up to Malfoy with his wand and called him a bastard! I mean, what the hell? But you can't help but love him… sigh…

Now back to Malfoy… I still have no idea how I am going to "change him for the better", or however me or Harry put it a few days ago. What am I supposed to do, go up to him with hot chocolate and ask him to spill his most deepest and darkest secrets? *snorts*, yeah, that'll work.

I've started a Malfoy board on my wall. Stalker-ish of me, I know. There aren't any pictures of him up there, though. Just a few post-its that I brought home with a few ideas scribbled on there. I hope to _God_ he doesn't find a way into my room.

Note to Self: Always lock the door. With magic.

Some of the things I've got down:

_Sneak up to him at a time of weakness  
__Legilimens (__Last Resort)  
__Um… ask?  
__Find a friend and get it from them… Pansy? Blaise? Crabbe? Goyle? Scratch the last two._

Yeah, sounds pretty… dumb.

Alright, better get going on DADA. Miss Dupree likes homework.

'Night

* * *

Argh, so ridiculously short it's annoying! Sorry, but this is all I could come up with for this chapter. I am seriously considering putting this story on hiatus, so please do not be upset if I don't update for a while. Main cause: Writer's block, of course. But while this story is suffering, I'm coming up with ideas for a new fic and for the sequel that I am hoping to write for _Can I Have This Dance. _So ttfn, ~Weaver


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